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Richmond, I say, come forth, and singly face me! Richard is hoarse, with daring thee to arms! [Erit.
Enter CATESBY and NORFOLK, in disorder. Catesby. Rescue! rescue ! My Lord of Norfolk,
haste ! The king enacts more wonders than a man, Daring and opposite to every danger: His horse is slain, and all on foot he fights, Seeking for Richmond, in the throat of death ; Nay, haste, my lord !--the day's against us. [Exeunt.
Enter GLOSTER and RATCLIFF.
Glost. A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!
yon thicket Stands a swift horse--away! ruin pursues us ; Withdraw, my lord, for only flight can save you.
Glost. Slave! I have set my life upon a cast,
Enter RICHMOND. Of one or both of us, the time is come! Rich. Kind Heaven, I thank thee, for my cause is
thine ! If Richard's fit to live, let Richmond fall.
Glost. Thy gallant bearing, Harry, I could 'plaud, But that the spotted rebel stains the soldier. Rich. Nor should thy prowess, Richard, want my
praise, But that thy cruel deeds have stamp'd thee tyrant. So thrive my sword, as Heav'n's high vengeance draws
Glost. My soul and body on the action, both !
[They fight-RICHARD falls. Glost. Perdition catch thy arm !-the chance is
thine ! But, oh! the vast renown thou hast acquir'd, In conqʼring Richard, dost afflict him more Than even his body's parting with its soul. Now, let the world no longer be a stage, To feed contention in a lingering act; But let one spirit of the first-born Cain, Reign in all bosoms; that each heart being set On bloody actions, the rude scene may end, And darkness be the burier of the dead. [Dies. Enter OXFORD, LORD STANLEY, and SOLDIERS,
with King Richard's Crown. Rich. Oh, welcome, friends! my noble father,
welcome! Heav'n and our arms be prais'd, the day is ours ! See there, my lords, stern Richard is no more! Stanley. Victorious Richmond, well thou hast ac
quitted thee! And see, the just reward that Heav'n has sent thee: Among the glorious spoils of Bosworth field, We've found the crown, which now in right is thine: "Tis doubly thine, by conquest, and by choice. Long live Henry the Seventh, King of England!
[Trumpets. Rich. Next to just Heav'n, my noble countrymen, I owe my thanks to you, whose love I'm proud of; And ruling well shall speak my gratitude. But now, my lords, what friends of us are missing? Pray, tell me, is young George Stanley living? Stanley. He is, my liege, and safe in Leicester
town, Whither, if you please, we may withdraw us.
toil's rewarded !